BRIDE.exe | JAYHOON [Editing]

1.1: SYSTEM LOADING...

At precisely seven o'clock in the evening, the chill of early winter clung to the air like an uninvited guest. The office building stood tall against the darkening sky, its windows aglow with artificial light. Despite the hour, employees still filtered in through the glass doors, some with takeaway coffee in hand, others with coats wrapped tightly around them. Inside, the atmosphere buzzed with quiet urgency, a harmony of murmured conversations, squeaking wheels of office chairs, and the rhythmic click-clack of keyboards tapping out code and ideas alike.

Jay stood at the center of a stark white testing room, his figure solitary and unmoving. VR glasses rested snugly on his face, and a pair of haptic gloves encased his hands. The soft hum of the machinery activated around him, and a quiet voice spoke.

"Sir, we're ready to begin."

He gave a brief nod, barely perceptible, and reached up to plug in his headphones. As soon as the jack clicked into place, the world around him seemed to disappear.

There was no sound at first, only silence and the brief flicker of static on the VR screen before everything bloomed into color. A sharp sensation crawled through his nerves, like the first jolt of adrenaline before a fall. It wasn't painful, just unfamiliar. Then the landscape stabilized.

He found himself standing atop a vast, grassy mountain, under a sky overflowing with constellations. They drifted lazily overhead, their glow soft and ethereal, as if the heavens had descended to brush against the tips of the earth. Wind rustled the tall grass around his boots, though in the real world, Jay was simply walking on a treadmill embedded in the lab floor. Everything—down to the faint crunch of soil underfoot and the ambient cry of distant birds—was artificial, but it felt real.

With each step, the world shifted. He passed through dense forests with neon-lit trees, underwater ruins teeming with bioluminescent creatures, and even a bustling digital city where humanoid avatars watched him curiously from glowing windows. Each scene brought its own set of challenges: puzzles, physical tasks, timed objectives. But Jay navigated through them with quiet concentration and sharp instinct. Two hours passed in a blur, but his breathing stayed steady, and his resolve never wavered.

Then, finally, the screen faded to black. The mountain dissolved. The constellations blinked out.

Jay slowly lifted the VR glasses off his face, his hair slightly damp with sweat. For a moment, he simply stood there, blinking under the sterile white lights of the lab as reality reclaimed its place.

He turned to face the team—dozens of them, standing just outside the observation glass, their eyes trained on him with a mix of anxiety and hope. No one dared to speak first.

Jay exhaled, rolled his shoulders, then allowed the corners of his lips to curl into a small, genuine smile.

A beat passed. Then the room erupted.

Cheers rang out. Applause echoed down the halls. Someone gasped and clutched their colleague's arm before breaking down into sobs. Another engineer leapt into the air and pulled someone into a hug, spinning them in a circle. A few simply stood frozen, blinking back tears, disbelieving that after two long, grueling years—it worked.

Jay stepped out of the room and was immediately engulfed by the team. He held up a hand to calm them, then spoke with that measured, gravel-toned voice of his.

"Everyone," he said, "we did it. Tonight, we celebrate."

Laughter broke out again, louder this time, and a wave of relief swept through the crowd like wind through open windows. Jay let himself smile a little more. It wasn't just about the test anymore—it was about everything they'd sacrificed: weekends, holidays, late nights with cold takeout and hot tempers. All of it had led to this moment.